


bullseye

by meowcosm



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Accidental Stimulation, Erotic Archery, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Stress Relief, Unresolved Sexual Tension, confusing feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:02:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24748798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meowcosm/pseuds/meowcosm
Summary: Really, Claude should have expected Ignatz to have changed. Marianne is more optimistic, Lorenz is able to refrain from constantly criticizing him, and Raphael- well, alright, Raphael is the same.It's a little too much, though, for him to be hot.-Claude finds himself in a situation he's not sure how to deal with.
Relationships: Claude von Riegan/Ignatz Victor
Comments: 3
Kudos: 44





	bullseye

There are, all things considered, few avenues of surprise for Claude. It’s not like he isn’t in a high-risk, high-reward business- to command an entire army is perhaps the job most qualified for that title, in fact. It’s that he has to consider all possibilities and outcomes which could result from anything he, or someone else, might do. Any unguarded place is vulnerable to attack- any attack can turn the tides of battle quicker than most can comprehend- therefore, even the most unlikely of places must be shored up with defence at the first opportunity.

It is the same with people as it is structures- what is constantly guarded cannot be usurped, nor can it be changed. That’s how he keeps himself safe- and safety is still, after all this time, a matter of survival. 

Up until the moment that he’s shuffling himself into his own room, as if he’s some sort of illicit product, Claude prides himself in having never let up in such surveillance. But in the brief second between him hurriedly bringing his trousers down from his waistline, underclothes caught simultaneously in the hooked grip of his fingers, his pride is replaced with a lament- how foolish he was to have become overconfident, and to have assumed that his sanctity was a given. 

-

It had all started- or at least, started anew- in the week after he’d returned to the monastery. Where he’d almost let himself succumb to feelings of insecurity, each of the former Golden Deer arriving in waves, late into the night. Not, as he’d hoped, together as a whole.

But he’d gotten what he had wanted. And he’d long learnt that in a game of survival, to win was not something worth griping about. 

In an attempt to shore up loyalties, he’d made his best efforts to reconnect with the ex-students he hadn’t had an avenue of communication with. Leonie, Raphael, Ignatz- and Marianne, whose habitual reclusiveness had not lent itself to regular communications. It was Marianne that he found first, observing the sunrise of the great bridge. Wind in her hair, more alive than she’d ever looked before. He’d taken a second to observe the scenery with her, and to reassure her of the welcomeness of her presence, before moving on. 

Second was Raphael. To his surprise, Claude hadn’t found him with Ignatz, and when he asked for his whereabouts, Raphael had responded with nothing but a shrug. 

“I dunno.” he’d mumbled, still chewing on the remnants of dried meat and hardtack. “Training?” 

At the time, it had seemed unlikely. Claude wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen Ignatz train in public- in lessons, he’d preferred to stick to the principles and theoreticals. He had no reason to assume he didn’t train- he was growing in both strength and knowledge- and so instead nurtured the assumption that it was Ignatz’s preference to remain out of the eyes of others. 

There was no reason to assume things had changed. Marianne was looking better, yes- but she had been in a truly dark place, and Raphael was much the same. Indeed, in a testament to his sameness, all that it took for Raphael to thank him dearly for his presence was for Claude to replenish his supply of food, foisting a long cord of dried, smoked sausage into his fist. 

“For you,” he’d said, winking. “Tell Ignatz I’m looking for him if you see him, alright?” 

Perhaps Raphael was saying something- Claude couldn’t really tell, not with the food still in his mouth. Nor did he stick around to find out, departing the dining hall as soon as Raphael’s attention was diverted towards the return of one of the dining staff into the kitchens behind him.

Third was Leonie. Really, Claude had expected to find Ignatz first- he’d taken to the dorms in search of him, knowing that several valuable art supplies were amongst the personal trinkets he hadn’t been able to take with him after the Battle of Garreg Mach. Granted, Claude wasn’t sure if painting supplies could remain usable after five years, but it was worth a shot to try finding Ignatz there. 

Ignatz was not, however, there. Leonie was, though, and it felt like a waste of the already-dwindling daylight hours to care too much about order. He’d signalled her with a dramatic wave, and like a homing pigeon, she’d ran over to give him a profuse and enthusiastic greeting. 

“I can’t believe you’re here, Claude.” Even though they’d seen each other several times since the return to the monastery, Claude hardly blamed Leonie- he’d worried for her in much the same fashion, their lines of contact cut after a too-hasty departure. “You’re surrounded by too many untrustworthy people for my comfort. I hope you’ll let us all protect you.”

A part of him twitched at Leonie’s insistence of protection. He had no reason to believe she was insincere, but she was right- Claude’s realm was one of intrigue, of far too many ulterior motives to trust anyone on the surface level. Still, it felt good, to make some casual physical contact once again, and he sunk ever-so-slightly into the touch. 

It was not long, though, before Leonie drew back. A grin still planted firmly on her face, she’d given Claude a hearty, cheerful slap on the shoulder, relief and comfort finding an outlet. 

“You’re busy, right?” she’d inquired. “I can see it on your face, Claude.”

He’d felt uncomfortably exposed, but he’d nodded. 

“What’s up?” 

For a second, he pondered the best answer. “Looking for Ignatz.”

To Claude’s surprise, considering the friendship they’d built, Leonie had only shrugged her shoulders. “Can’t help you. I mean, I know he’s here. But I haven’t seen him today.”

Stretching his back, Claude had sighed. “I suppose I have more looking to do, then. We’ll catch up later, alright?”

The nod Leonie gave him was amicable, enough for Claude to turn tail without the feeling of having concluded the conversation too soon. Once more traipsing down the long corridors of the dormitories, humming an old tune under his breath, Claude set out once more, resigned to checking each part of the monastery from most to least likely for signs of Ignatz’s presence. 

-

Nearing two hours afterwards, Claude found himself propped up against the wall of the room which had once contained the Black Eagles house. Despite his endurance, and the adaptations he’d learned to make for marches, the strain was beginning to set in, necessitating a rest. There had been no sign of Ignatz, regardless of where he’d looked, and his journey had eventually brought him to the classrooms which now stood abandoned. Places where he’d been sure Ignatz would find nothing interesting, and therefore not deign to visit. And while he had been right on that account- Ignatz was not, in fact, huddled in the ruins of days long gone- it felt like a hard thing to appreciate, when he’d already been wrong so many times.

Hand over his forehead, he’d wiped beads of sweat away from where they threatened to slip down his face. Once more, he considered the landscape, the whole of Garreg Mach unravelling inside his mind. 

He’d gone through most of the communal areas, and all places which might have some significance to Ignatz. Then, he’d gone through the places he remembered finding Ignatz during their years of schooling, and to the more scenic vistas, where Ignatz might have been indulging in his hobby of painting. 

He’d turned every stone, pulled every weed, and had not been rewarded for his efforts. 

Still, there was one place. One he’d discounted right at the start, when he’d found Raphael in the dining hall. He’d suggested that Ignatz might have been training- a prospect Claude couldn’t help but find so implausible that, consciously or not, he’d pushed it down to the bottom of his list. 

He was close. And it was worth a try. Retreating back onto his feet, Claude took to the ground once more, and headed down the paths of dirt and stone which brought him to the entrance of the training hall. To his contentment, it wasn’t destroyed, or even visibly damaged- most of what had was of a decidedly religious nature. Still, the door was heavy, and it creaked when Claude did his best to push it open. On instinct, he’d tried to muffle it- but found that he’d alerted whatever was inside before he could. 

Perhaps he’d grown too used to seeing demonic beasts around each corner, but Claude couldn’t think of a more undignified end than simply walking laxly into the lair of some creature intent on killing him and using his body as a nest. Footsteps emanated from inside the building, and though they seemed human, Claude had no reason to believe that indicated a benign presence. He’d done his best to secure the monastery after its recapture, but- 

“Claude?”

Immediately, Claude’s head whipped round to face the area shadowed by the ceiling and the walls. He could make a figure out, at the far end, most likely to be the one addressing him at that moment. Still, he tensed. They’d seen him, but that was no reason to surrender his identity so quickly. 

“Who’s this?” 

Despite the jovial tone of his voice, Claude couldn’t help the feeling of hesitancy in his gut. Particularly when the shadowed figure began to approach him, at which point he allowed his fingers to slip away slightly from where they held the door open. 

“It’s me.” 

There was, admittedly, something familiar about the voice. Claude couldn’t recognize it instantly, but it was evocative enough that he was sure he’d heard it somewhere before. It was either a familiar face, then, or someone attempting an infiltration with their voice masked. 

Claude hesitated, unsure of what he could do to make the situation turn out in his favour. An unusual circumstance, and one which did little to settle the discomfort deep within him. 

It was then that the figure stopped in its path, at the same time as it was illuminated by a beam of sunlight filtering in from a high window. The flash of verdant green which hit Claude’s eyes in that moment nearly overpowered him, and he could not compose himself once more before the voice could be heard again.

“It’s me. Ignatz.” 

There was an emphasis on the latter part of the sentence- an emphasis that Claude didn’t entirely process, his emotions a so-suddenly turbulent mixture of confusion, frustration and relief. Some humiliation, too, at the fact that he’d been so slow to recognize a compatriot’s voice. 

“Oh.” Despite the confusion inside him, Claude tried to put his best foot forward, knowing it wouldn’t do him or his authority any good to appear confused or surprised at someone striking up a conversation with him. 

“It’s good to see you. Ignatz.” The name came off of his tongue strangely, as if he had been cast off balance. Ignatz hardly seemed to notice it, however, approaching Claude with a smile on his face and a quiver of arrows clutched to his thigh. Taking a glance into the background, Claude picked up the presence of Ignatz’s bow slung over one of the chairs. 

_ So he was training, huh? It’s not like I can be faulted for thinking otherwise, but- _

“It’s good to see you, Claude.” 

Ignatz extended his arm to Claude, palm open. Beckoning a handshake. In the flurry of Claude’s thoughts, he only picked up on it a brutally awkward few seconds afterwards, and his reciprocation was much too weak, uncoordinated in comparison to Ignatz’s confident grip on his hand. Still, if Ignatz noticed it, he didn’t deign to point it out. 

“...You’re training.” It was an ungraceful question, something that Claude realized almost as soon as the words exited his mouth. Still, once again, there were no take-backs. “Is it going well for you?” 

A sweet smile spread across Ignatz’s face- more easeful than Claude remembered him being capable of before. His head ducked to one side, and he shut his eyes- though Ignatz’s haircut was still of the practical, common sort, it was decisively less boyish than it had once been. 

“You should watch.”

It was an unambiguous invitation, one that Claude couldn’t find much reason to reject. Without much contemplation of the matter, he nodded, and allowed Ignatz to lead him into the shaded training area. He supposed that if he’d found Ignatz earlier, he might have been able to reject the invitation- but after nearly hours of walking, Claude was more than happy to sit down and watch someone else physically exert themselves. 

“Are you familiar with the archery setup here?” Claude inquired. “I can show you around if you’re not.”

To his surprise, Ignatz shook his head, fully dismissive. 

“It’s only bullseyes and figure targets. I don’t think they could make me forget how a bow works, even though they are a little new to me.”

The last part of Ignatz’s sentence confirmed what Claude had assumed- that he was a relative stranger to the training grounds- but it spoke, too, to a confidence Claude wasn’t sure if he’d caught sight of before. Still feeling the ache of his legs underneath him, he chose to take a seat and turn it to face the actual practice area rather than to think any further. 

A seat that was, on closer inspection, the one which had Ignatz’s bow slung around its frame. Before Claude could get up himself, and offer the bow to Ignatz without being prompted, Ignatz had drawn closer to Claude- somehow, without him noticing. Without apologetics, Ignatz leant over Claude to fetch his weapon, the arch of the bow fitting comfortably in the crook of his hands. 

One moment, Claude was struck by the newness of Ignatz’s confidence. The next, Ignatz hovered over him, body bending over his knee, a part of his leg that Claude didn’t really _ want  _ to discern almost jammed into his crotch. Instinctually, Claude’s eyes snapped shut, only reopening when Ignatz’s weight was lifted off of him. 

“Sorry about that.” muttered Ignatz, preparing his bow for firing.

_ That’s more recognizable _ , Claude thought. _ But it doesn’t make him sound so… pitiful _ ? 

Before Claude could reach the end of his thought, Ignatz had already turned away from him. He adopted a shooting stance- a rather excellent one, if Claude had any right to comment on the matter- and drew back without asking for prior confirmation. Though it was all so sudden, Claude could do little else but feel the way his eyes traced over each movement of Ignatz’s muscles, visible under the partial transparency of his sweat-lined white shirt. And even as he contemplated commenting, Ignatz was moving forward with his shot, breaking Claude out of his daze with the solid, forceful sound of a bow firing, followed up with near-immediacy by the collision of the fired arrow with the wood of the firing target. 

Dazed, Claude took a moment to refocus his vision in such a fashion that he could look in front of Ignatz. His vision was immediately caught by the ringed board, suspended for archery practice.

_ Dead in the centre. _

-

He’s compromised, and he knows it. Hopefully, he’ll get over it soon. Until then- what he’s about to do will have to suffice. 

Back to the wall, Claude dips his hands beneath his waistband. It’s a familiar sensation, but one he hasn’t indulged in recently at all, and his cock is more than responsive to the increasing intrusion of sensation. From the first moment Claude strokes his hand down his cock, he can feel blood draining to the length of the shaft, causing his tip to brush up against his smallclothes. With a sigh, he frees himself fully from his coverings, and exposes himself to the cooler air of his room. 

_ How ridiculous _ , he thinks,  _ that it’s him _ .  _ That I let him take my guard down _ . 

There are many things Ignatz could take, Claude thinks. Perhaps his physical appearance wasn’t essential to his disarming of Claude’s instincts, but Claude would be lying to any deity out there if he said that he hadn’t refined himself quite spectacularly over the past five years. Not that Claude himself hadn’t-  _ but that’s besides the point _ . 

Ignatz is pretty, now. Still boyish, and short, but less  _ nascent _ . His lips are smooth and plush, framed by a now-more-masculine jawline, and as Claude experimentally thumbs the head of his cock, he floats an image in his mind. Of Ignatz, on his knees in front of Claude, fitting his length inside his mouth and  _ taking it _ . Taking the whole thing, full of his new, relentless hunger. 

A bead of precome slips from Claude’s tip, coating his forefinger. He barely notices, consumed as he is by thoughts of Ignatz. What he might try to do to him, even beneath him, in order to surprise him. 

_ Perhaps _ , Claude contemplates,  _ he’d make use of his hands. To stimulate me- elsewhere. _ The first place his mind ventures to is his balls, held and stroked by Ignatz’s hands, their juxtaposition between softness and the bow-callouses Claude is much too familiar with. It’s a deeply gratifying image, and it prompts Claude to mimic the motion with the hand he doesn’t have on his shaft. 

Still, his mind draws elsewhere, as it is wont to do. The Claude of Claude’s mind is suddenly more undressed, and more exposed, lying down instead of propped down on a chair. And Ignatz is still sucking him, sweet lips pursed around his shaft. But his hands venture elsewhere, the forefingers of his left hand slipping inside Claude’s hole. Bypassing the first tough ring of muscle like it’s nothing, like it’s where Ignatz was born to put his bow fingers after the fighting’s done. Even though Claude can’t feel that himself- he has things to do later, and now isn’t the time to finger himself- the thought of it still releases a low growl from the back of his throat, and contributes to a wave of arousal at the bottom of his stomach. 

In Claude’s mind, Ignatz speeds up. His head is positively bobbing as he brings himself down on Claude’s cock, eyes closed and cheeks flushed red with pleasure. Claude isn’t touching him, as appealing as the thought might be- it’s already so very much, and at the same time not enough, to imagine Ignatz paying such attention to him. As intriguingly arousing as it is to imagine taking his friend- or to imagine his friend taking him- the next meeting of the war council encroaches like an unwelcome root.

Without much time left, Claude tightens his old on his cock. He focuses more intently on the way Ignatz seems so confident, so capable, with his desires plain to see. He gazes up at Claude, if only in his fantasy, with his eyes full of want. Red-hot, a blacksmith’s forge. For each blink Claude imagines, strokes his cock, rougher every time. He’d usually use lube, but it’s too inconvenient to make a mess right now. 

Still. Perhaps, one day, if he’s still compromised ( _ because perhaps he’ll come to his senses, as he should _ ), he’ll fuck himself properly. What he’s doing now, Claude tells himself, is an entree, served before the full dish. Hopefully, it’ll help him lose his appetite, and he won’t make a fool of himself. 

Now, though, on the brink of coming to the thought of his friend and fellow soldier wrapping his lips around his cock like the neck of a bottle, Claude knows he’s going to make a fool of himself. He lets himself. 

_ Ignatz, grazing my cock with his teeth. Teasing the slit of my head with his tongue. Coming himself untouched, then swallowing my release. Not stopping until I’m completely- fuck, ahhn- dry, and I can’t- nhh- do anything but whine and moan _ . 

Indeed, the thought of this dreamland Claude coming down Ignatz’s throat is all Claude’s physical body needs, itself, to come. With a deep, abiding shudder, Claude climaxes, his own release staining the floor. He grimaces, instinctively, but even in his post-ecstasy mind he’s thankful that nothing covers his clothes. He only has so long, of course, before the war council assembles, and he has to face everyone he’s fighting alongside-

Including Ignatz. The man involved in Claude’s extensive sex fantasy, whose eyes he will undoubtedly have to meet, whose hand he might need to shake. 

_ At least it’s out of my system _ , Claude mutters, hurriedly pulling up his underclothes and trousers.  _ Any regrets will have to wait. _

**Author's Note:**

> ty for reading! i've been wanting to write for this pair for a while
> 
> i'm @meowcosm on twitter, i post more fanfic there!
> 
> kudos + comments are appreciated and read!


End file.
